Dean Winchester. Too long it had been a ‘Will-we—Won’t-we—Could-we—Should-we’ game between you two. If he wasn’t going to break, you would, and soon.

The two of you just dealt with some changelings. They had a nest not too far down the road and after trudging through slime covered grounds, you two kicked ass. Although, you did get some ass-kicking in turn.

You had some sore spots on your arms, a nice swelling bruise on your jaw that ached when you opened your mouth, but Dean? the only word to describe it was Damn.

It was pouring down rain, soft patters echoed through the otherwise silent night. The moonlight, effulgent and pale blue, shone down on his face. A small spatter of blood trailed down from his temple, he was panting softly to catch his breath from the fight.

His muscles flexed as he leaned back against Baby, arms shifting under his tight black tee. His amulet glinted.

He may or may not be making a show of it now. He knows you’re staring. Why? He has no clue, in his opinion he probably looks like beat and bruised shit right now. He won’t question it, he’ll just relish in the attention.

“You alright there?” He mused. He had to admit, you looked pretty good too. You could pull off the ‘I just killed seven slimy changelings’ look.